


A Grand Unified Theory for Dummies

by Siria



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: Shane had something of a grand unified theory of dating one Ryan Bergara brewing which—and bear with him here—used Pokemon as its central metaphor.





	A Grand Unified Theory for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to trinityofone for betaing!

Shane had something of a grand unified theory of dating one Ryan Bergara brewing which—and bear with him here—used Pokemon as its central metaphor. The two of them had gone from co-workers to friends to boyfriends, like how a Pikachu evolved into a similar yet different Pokemon for the purpose of shilling more unneeded plastic merchandise to small children. True, neither of them had changed his name, but Ryan now called Shane "babe" on camera about as much as he called him "big guy", which the internet had many scandalised opinions about. 

(Just as had been the case with Pokemon Go, most of those opinions were wrong, but just as had been the case with Pokemon Go, Shane didn't give a shit, so whatever.)

The important thing was that the new and improved boyfriend-level Ryan and Shane were fundamentally the same people who did mostly the same things together as they always had—just now Shane had developed the additional ability to blow a handsy Ryan while contorted into the backseat of a Honda Civic. 

Case in point: they'd always been fairly active texters, because sure they spent like ten hours a day together, five days a week, but that left so many other hours per day when you found yourself needing to urgently communicate about popcorn varieties or the relative merits of _The Fog_ versus _The Thing_ or this one really neat, very fuzzy bee that landed on Shane's windowsill. 

None of that had changed (especially since Ryan continued to be wrong about _The Thing_ , verifiably wrong), it was just that there was new stuff in the mix now. Stuff like this: Shane waking up basically every morning they weren't together, fumbling for his phone, and finding that Ryan had already sent him at least one 'Good morning' message.

Most mornings it was just that, or a _hey babe :)_ , or a string of emojis that made Shane feel like Indiana Jones trying to decipher a hitherto-unknown hieroglyphic inscription. (Well, he understood the eggplants, but you didn't need to be fluent in the Youths' yeet speak to get that one.) Occasionally it was some dumb gif that never failed to make Shane laugh, or a photo of Ryan with sleepy eyes and mussed hair that made him smile like an idiot. More rarely, it was a link to some internet weirdness sent at three in the morning which told him that Ryan was having trouble sleeping again and that Shane was going to need to pick up two extra-strong coffees before he went into work. 

This particular Saturday, however, Shane woke up to a definite first. 

_so i want you to promise that no matter what i say/send to you today, you won't come near me until after 6pm._

Shane blinked at his phone for a moment, then groaned, rolled out of bed, and went to put the kettle on for some tea. _have you been kidnapped? is this a Situation? blink once for yes._

The little ellipses appeared on screen for a long time, long enough that the kettle had boiled by the time Ryan's response finally came through, though all it said was _no :)_

Shane scrubbed a hand through his hair and yawned. _is this for a bit?_

Ryan was quicker to respond this time. _just promise me._

_pinky swear_ , Shane replied, because this was one of those situations where taking the path of least resistance seemed the wisest course of Bergara Management. 

Man, was he ever wrong. 

*****

The next message arrived while Shane was settling into his patented lazy Saturday morning groove. He'd had breakfast, he'd showered, he'd picked up some around the apartment, and then he'd settled in on the couch with a book and some of Obi's favourite music playing. Shane pulled his attention away from Mars colony shenanigans when he saw his phone light up, and then picked it up when he saw the message was from Ryan. 

It was a picture of a plain brown cardboard box, sitting on what looked like the counter in Ryan's bathroom. 

_If you've got Gwyneth Paltrow's head in there_ , Shane wrote back, _I'm going to be pretty ticked, young man._

_No goops were harmed in the making of this :)_

_Is this a thing where I have to guess? Animal vegetable mineral?_

There was a long pause before Ryan replied, long enough that Shane had drifted back to his book. Before he could get too immersed in it, though, his phone buzzed again. 

_No guessing will be needed for this one._

Shane's reply was an eloquent _???_

_Remember how we decided to take some things slow?_

Yes, Shane did. Shane had indeed been there for a moderately awkward conversations as to who had feelings for whom (mutual), which of them had previously made out with a guy (both, to Shane's surprise), which of them had prior experience with having a cock in his mouth (Shane), which of them had done what Ryan termed 'butt stuff' (Shane), and which of them was theoretically interested in sucking cock and 'butt stuff' but wasn't really, quote, 'convinced if that whole prostate thing would work for him and anyway dude have you seen the size of your dick lately' (guess). 

Taking it slow was fine with Shane. Sure, there were plenty of things he was keen to try with Ryan—to do _to_ Ryan—but never at the expense of Ryan's comfort. Besides, Shane had a sneaking suspicion that wherever Ryan ultimately decided he fell on the big ole gay sex spectrum between Amish-style hand holding and the real freak-a-deak stuff, Shane would be fine with it so long as he got to be with Ryan. 

(Besides, studies had shown that Ryan giving Shane a handjob while Shane got to clutch at those ridiculous, flexing biceps of his was more than enough to get Shane off spectacularly. Repeatedly. He got jizz on his eyebrow once. Take that, scientific method.)

_Well I remembered I've never been good at taking things slow._

That message was followed swiftly by another picture. The cardboard box was open to reveal another smaller cardboard box inside it. Shane was just about to send a snarky reply to Ryan ( _is it boxes all the way down?_ ) when he zoomed in on the writing on the side of the second box.

In all capitals, it proclaimed NAUGHTI & NYCE. ANAL FANTASY TRAINER KIT. NON-TOXIC SILICONE. BONUS: TWO FREE LUBRICANT PACKETS! 

"Oh ho," Shane said, staring at his phone with wide eyes. "Oh _ho. Oh_ ho. Oh ho ho _ho_ , oh, oh my god, I don't even know which word to stress any more, Christ on a bike, Ryan."

_Not that anyone could ever call me a stickler for tradition but I think generally speaking people reserve the April Fool's jokes for April_

_Gonna grab a shower :) ttyl_. No other replies were forthcoming. 

"Goddammit," Shane told his phone. "Madej, my man, you have created a monster."

Shane spent forty minutes alternating between trying and failing to read more of his book, and staring at a blank patch of wall. What was Ryan doing right _then_ , he kept asking himself. And now? Was he shampooing his hair and snickering at how gullible Shane was? Or was he working himself open with his fingers, eyes closed and breath hitching? Was he ready for the plug yet, was he talking himself into it, was—

His phone pinged. 

_Decided to start with the 2nd one. YOLO, right?_

"Did you just invoke YOLO with regards to your anus?" Shane said aloud. "Am I truly dating a man who would invoke YOLO with regards to his anus?"

Another message. _Ironic YOLO lol. Non-ironic butt plug though. Just remember what you promised, no coming to find me until after 6pm._

This was, Shane thought, probably the angriest he had ever been about being half-hard. 

*****

The next message arrived shortly after 11. It was a short video clip, recorded while Ryan was—holy shit, was he in line in a Starbucks? A noisy Starbucks, sure, but just because it was noisy didn't mean it wasn't public. That didn't mean that it wasn't a forum of, of capitalist endeavour frequented by other people who were neither Shane nor Ryan but who were nonetheless perfectly capable of recognising when a third party was engaged in a sex thing. _Ryan!_ and _sex!_ and _public!_ insisted Shane's brain. Shane was so startled at first that he had to play the clip again just to hear what Ryan was saying. 

"So maybe, uh…" Ryan had held the phone up near his mouth like he was on a call with poor reception; his eyes darted towards the screen and then away. "Maybe I'm like part alien or something, because it's well-known fact that aliens are into, you know… stuff involving certain parts of the body, and I'm, uh, I'm not hating this, exactly."

Shane watched the video for the third time. He could see a faint flush riding high on Ryan's cheekbones. Were his eyes brighter than usual? His hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it, tugging on it. Was this all wishful thinking on Shane's part? Sure, he had more experience with this kind of thing than Ryan, generally speaking, but he'd never actually used a butt plug and he'd certainly never walked around in public with a sex toy inserted in any orifice. 

"Maybe _I_ should be more YOLO about my butt. What do you think?" Shane asked Obi. "Or am I too much a terminally lapsed Lutheran from the Chicago suburbs to ever think about my ass like that?"

The cat yawned widely. 

"That's what I thought," Shane said. 

His phone pinged again. Shane half-expected that when he opened the photo message he'd find proof that Ryan had somehow managed to start an orgy in a coffee shop ( _Love Amid the Dark Roast!_ proclaimed a mid-century newsreel announcer in Shane's head. _Local Man Sparks Sexual Frenzy Thanks To Provocative Butt Things, Bitable Biceps!_ ), but it was just a picture of a Starbucks cup. The barista had flagrantly misspelled Ryan's name.

_That's okay_ , Shane wrote back, _I still think you're nifty Rhiyan even if you are clearly a character who escaped from a Game of Thrones book._

_Haha. No sympathy for my pain._

Shane considered what to say in response, then took a deep breath. _To be fair, doesn't seem like you're feeling a lot of pain right now, buddy._

A minute ticked by without a response, two, and then a rapid-fire series of short messages: _It's different. Really different. Knew it'd be a stretch. Didn't think about the weight though. Full but better. Didn't know that could feel good. Didn't realise it'd move when I walk either._ A pause. _I like it._

Fuck the promise, Shane thought distantly. _Where are you? Or you can come over here, I don't care._

_No breaking a pinky swear._

_If this is about proving a point, consider it proved. I'm dtf, ready to bone, consider myself booty called._ Shane's fingers felt clumsy against the phone. Probably not surprising, given the direction his blood flow was taking. 

_Not testing you, testing me. If I'm going to do this, I want to know my boundaries and what my body has to say about it all._

"Don't say it," Shane told himself. He bit his lip. "Don't say it." But he was only human. The joke was right there. He couldn't not say it. _So the butt plug is like a spirit box?_

_Uh so if a voice starts coming out of there you're the one who has to tell Fathr Thomas why I need to be exorcised._

Shane wheezed.

*****

Thinking about the spirit box in an erotic context did a surprisingly good job at reducing the intensity of Shane's boner. There was a long time to go until 6pm, after all, and TV ads for Viagra had long ago taught him that in the event of an erection lasting more than four hours, he should seek immediate medical help to avoid long-term injury.

Plus, if Shane had to go outside for any reason sporting a hard-on in the thin sweats he was wearing, he'd probably get arrested for public indecency. Not on the ole bucket list, that one. No desire to be the public shame of Schaumburg, not when the good townsfolk had mostly been fairly philosophical about having a quasi-internet-famous son who'd gone west to Californ-eye-aye to make a living looking for non-existent ghosts and metaphorically pulling his co-worker's pigtails by writing a short animated series about talking, time-travelling food stuffs. 

The last few years had been a lot. 

A reduction in boner intensity also meant that Shane was able to distract himself from the fact that Ryan was walking around L.A. like a shameless, wanton hussy by stooping to empty out his fridge and then scrub the inside from top to bottom. There was the downside that every vegetable that Shane picked up seemed suddenly, impossibly phallic, but you win some, you lose some, he told himself. 

"This squash definitely seems like something Tumblr would ban for being a size queen," Shane said, waggling it in front of Obi's face. "All it needs are some female-presentin' nipples and it would be full-on excommunicated."

Obi didn't seem that impressed. 

_HUSSY_ , Shane texted Ryan. 

_:)_ , Ryan texted back. 

*****

At precisely 2pm, Ryan sent him another video message, this one sent from—where the fuck was he, was he sitting in a supply closet at work? Shane squinted at the screen. That definitely looked like stacks of copy paper behind Ryan. The only light came from a single shitty overhead bulb that threw harsh shadows across Ryan's face, and Shane would have been offended from a directorial perspective if he hadn't been distracted by the way Ryan was biting at his lower lip. 

"True confession time." Ryan's gaze was heavy-lidded, turned inward, and oh hello, there was Shane's erection, back in full force. "These things looked super fucking intimidating in the photos, and all the reviews said that a, a… _shit_ … they said if I took an actual guy, it'd be bigger. And I wanted to say ha, b-because had they _seen_ you and your goddamn monster schlong, of course it was going to be _bigger_. But now I think maybe, maybe I want…"

There was a pause. The phone wobbled a little; Ryan let his head fall back to rest against the metal shelving. Shane watched, fascinated, as Ryan's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He couldn't hold back from cupping himself through his sweatpants.

"Oh fuck, okay." Ryan looked back at the phone, shaking his head, and Shane could see him working to focus. His lower lip was swollen. "It's really tough trying not to come when it feels so good and I know you're going to watch this, but I'm saving things for this evening."

Shane said several things that would have gotten him instantly expelled from pretty much any Christian denomination you cared to name. You know, if he'd been in one. 

"Okay, okay. I just wanted to check in, so, um, well, back to editing! No weekend rest for the wicked when there's a deadline to meet, ha ha. See you after 6." Shane had no idea how Ryan could pivot so sharply from super effective incubus to like, channeling a corny suburban dad, but it was giving Shane whiplash. Sex whiplash. 

"Maybe this is evidence for the existence of witchcraft," he said slowly. 

*****

After that, finding a proper source of distraction seemed like an imperative. Shane couldn't concentrate on his book for more than a few sentences at a time, and his kitchen wasn't that big—there was only so much he could rearrange in the cupboards without starting to feel like one of those camo-wearing prepper folks who lived in a murder cabin in Montana and thought the end times were a-comin'. Obi seemed more interested in napping than in chasing around after the laser pointer, and not a single thing on Netflix appealed. 

Shane settled for lying upside down on his couch, legs flung over the back, in the hope that the blood flow would reverse the polarity of Ryan Bergara's tantric sex magic or some shit. 

"This is awful," Shane told his crotch. "You should be ashamed."

When his penis made no answer—which, let's face it here, was probably for the best—Shane picked up his phone and fired up Twitter. _You think you know the world but have you ever taken a tour of its capital cities in alphabetical order while learning a nifty, nay keen, fact about each one? Come along, Twitterers, as we begin in Abu Dhabi, capital of the UAE. Did you know its name means "Gazelle Dad"?_

_Abuja: Nigeria's capital and the only purpose-built capital city in Africa! I think that takes chutzpah, deciding that somewhere's going to be the capital before you've even laid the first brick. Four for you, Nigeria._

Not long after Shane had tweeted about Accra ( _Started as a suburb, now it's the capital of Ghana and one of Africa's most economically vibrant cities, talk about a glow-up_ ) and just as he was starting to research Addis Ababa (huh, the highest-elevation capital city in Africa, who knew?), the responses started to roll in. 

_Uh. Shane, buddy?_

_omg is this like a teaser for new Ruining History!?!_

_much like the buzzfeed holiday special, can't tell if this is some wholesome content or just deeply weird._

_Shane, what?_

_are you ok, @shalexandej?_

"I am just peachy," Shane told the notifications. "I've just got an incubus boyfriend who's trying to kill me with the sex teasing." Well, he said it aloud, but he didn't actually _reply_ to them. He did have some self-preservation instincts, thank you so much. 

*****

Three things happened in swift succession right before 5pm: Shane finished his Tweet thread ( _Zagreb: last but definitely 100% not least because it's supposedly home to a cursed snake queen who nests deep in the tunnels below the medieval fortress of Medvedgrad & if THAT'S not the most metal thing you've ever heard, well come sit next to me because we need to chat, buster_), the sun went down, and his phone pinged with another text from Ryan. 

_Totally convinced about the positives of the prostate now btw_. This statement was followed by four whole rows of the smiling, blushing emoji, occasionally interspersed with the one that was winking and sticking its tongue out at the same time. Shane no longer knew whether to feel aroused or perturbed, although when you got right down to it, that was sort of the hallmark of both his professional and private lives right now. 

_I'm not replying to you_ , he texted Ryan. _It's just encouraging you. This is not a response._

_:)_ , said Ryan.

*****

At six, Shane scooped up his keys and his phone, ready to head out into the wilds of Los Angeles in order to track down his errant boyfriend and commit a ravishing, but made it no further than his front door. When he opened it, he found Ryan standing there, an overnight bag in one hand and the other raised as if to knock. 

"You are," Shane said. "I do not _even_. What is." Completing a sentence was beyond him, so he settled for grabbing Ryan by the hem of his t-shirt and towing him over the threshold, closing the door behind them. 

"It's six!" Ryan was flushed and grinning up at him and Shane wanted him so bad he was stupid with it. He couldn't seem to make himself let go of Ryan's t-shirt, and was acutely aware of how his knuckles were rubbing against Ryan's belly. "We made it!"

"If you think I don't know exactly time it is right now," Shane said, "you are so fucking mistaken, buddy."

"Just so we're both on the same page here," Ryan said, wrapping his arms around Shane's waist, "it _was_ obvious that six o'clock was a pun on sex o'clock, right? Because that's sort of what I was going for, and—"

"My god," Shane marvelled. "You just said that out loud and I still want to fuck you. You are legitimately some kind of sex-based demon, what the fuck."

Overnight bag, shoes, and clothes were discarded haphazardly along a path that meandered through Shane's living room, down his narrow hallway, and into his bedroom. It wasn't the first time that Shane had kissed someone like this on the way to his bed—not even the first time he'd kissed Ryan like this—but it was the first time for it to feel not like foreplay but like a shuddering interlude between one bout of it and the next. Shane felt close to overwhelmed even before they were both naked; by the time their clothes were scattered on the floor and Ryan himself was sprawled out nude over his sheets, Shane had to sit back and take a deep breath before he embarrassed himself. 

"This is generally the part where I'd ask if you're sure you want to do this," Shane said, "but given that it's at least ten after sex o'clock by now—"

"Yeah, I was thinking we could just, you know…" Ryan spread his legs, enough for Shane to see the flared, black base of the plug. 

"I'm not…" What he wasn't, Shane didn't know. He reached out and ran the tip of one finger around the rim of the plug, right where Ryan was stretched open. Ryan made a noise that Shane was sure was going to be his morning shower companion for the foreseeable future. "So, you know, I'm pretty sure you burned out my adrenal gland today with this little stunt."

"Not a stunt," Ryan said, shifting his hips. "A genuine investigation into, um, into, you know it's sort of hard to talk when you keep doing that."

"Oh, you mean when I do something like this?" Shane pressed gently against the base of the plug, pushing it just that little bit more into Ryan. He watched, fascinated, as Ryan's eyes drifted closed. "Teasing you, you mean?"

Ryan hiccuped a laugh. "Little bit more than regular teasing here, buddy."

"Form's maybe a bit different, but not the substance," Shane said. He took his hand away from the plug and let his fingers trail up the soft skin of Ryan's inner thigh, let them rest there to feel how his touch made one of the long muscles twitch and jump. "I mean generally speaking, when I tease you I don't want you to stop talking but I _do_ want you paying attention to me. You paying attention right now?"

Ryan blinked up at him, eyes bright and huge in a way that made Shane tell himself firmly that he couldn't think in Disney cartoon animal metaphors while engaged in the sexy times. "Yeah. Sort of wondering if you're going to get this show on the—"

Ryan cut off on a yelp as Shane grasped the base of the plug and ever so carefully, ever so slowly, turned it inside him. 

"Good?" Shane asked. 

"Son of a bitch," Ryan gasped, twisting his fingers in the bedsheets. His cock was hard and leaking against his belly, and he was so hot like this that Shane wanted to say some shit that was truly embarrassing. "That's—"

Shane hummed and tugged lightly again on the plug's base. "Step one. Wanna know what step two is?"

"When do you _ever_ —"

Shane curled himself over, taking Ryan's cock in his mouth and sucking hard at the same time that he twisted the plug again. Ryan's hoarse cry of, "Oh shit, oh _fuck_ , you asshole," would have been a lot more hurtful if he hadn't been reaching down to hold his thighs further apart and give Shane more room to work. 

And it was such _good_ work, so rewarding. Probably not what his high school guidance counsellor had exactly had in mind when he'd told them "find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life", but if you subtracted the whole mildly kinky gay sex part, Shane was at least adhering to the spirit of the thing. He'd found a job he loved and he'd found _Ryan_ , and now he had Ryan splayed out beneath him, sweating and cursing and trembling as he fucked Shane's mouth while Shane slowly worked the plug out of him, inch by torturous inch. 

Right when Ryan's hole was stretched around the widest part of the plug, Shane pulled off his cock. "Just, staying in the spirit of this whole endeavour, I'm not going too fast here, right? I mean, you were the one who wanted to take this slow, so…"

"Shane, if you don't fuck me right now, I will—"

Shane laughed, moving up the bed so that he could kiss the indignant look from Ryan's face and replace it with something softer, dazed. And what do you know, it worked! Super satisfying, excellent deployment of method, if Shane did say so himself. This was work on the level of sex wiles, even. "You're not the only incubus in this relationship, you know."

"Huh?" Ryan replied, which was of course the perfect moment for Shane to reach down and finish working the plug free from his body. Ryan shuddered and cursed, clutching at Shane's arms with his eyes squeezed shut. "Oh god, oh fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Shh, it's okay." Shane kissed him, biting gently at Ryan's already-swollen lower lip. "You can wait for me. I know you can, you're doing so good."

"I…" Ryan pulled back a little, eyes still shut, taking deep, heaving breaths. "God, okay, just—now, please? Please, Shane, I want you to so much, it's…"

Shane kissed him again, coaxed Ryan to roll onto his back and spread his legs while Shane rummaged in his bedside table for some more lube. It took him a few moments, because there was a whole BuzzFeed Unsolved episode to be made from the mystery of why earbuds multiplied and tangled together the way they did, but eventually Shane emerged victorious. As he slicked up his own cock with one hand, he worked two fingers of the other into Ryan's ass, testing. Ryan was hot and tight and clenched beautifully around him and Shane was so far past thinking about stopping. 

Still. He braced himself over Ryan and said, in a voice he barely recognised, "Should anyone here present know of any reason why these two loons shouldn't bone down, speak now or et cetera."

"Oh for… would you just raw me with your giant dick already?" Ryan sounded exasperated. 

"Aye, aye, cap'n," Shane said, and pushed into him. It was slow at first: Shane, getting used to the feeling of Ryan clenching around him; Shane, not wanting to hurt Ryan or freak him out; Shane, not wanting to lose it at the sight of Ryan biting his lip while he took Shane's cock. But it couldn't stay slow, not with Ryan making those sweet little noises at every thrust of Shane's, not with Ryan rising up to meet him, not with Ryan's head thrown back against the pillows. It couldn't stay slow, not with Shane wanting it so much, wanting Ryan so much, and not with Ryan wanting him in return. 

Ryan's hands moved, restless, over Shane's body: tugging at his hair, sliding along his sides, grabbing his ass and urging him on. "Harder, c'mon, you, you know you can…" He broke off on a moan as Shane shifted angles, thrust deeper. "... harder than that."

"Oh, I see how it is," Shane said, pushing them further up the bed so that Ryan's hips were canted upwards more sharply, his legs hooked high up around Shane's back. When Shane sank fully back in on the next thrust, the pleasure of it was enough to make his eyelids stutter closed. God, Ryan was tight. "You walk around in public with a mass-market sex toy up your butt for one day and suddenly you're an expert."

"Shane, please," Ryan said, and then there was nothing but the creaking of the bedframe and the breath burning in Shane's lungs and the feeling of Ryan all around him, Ryan, _Ryan_ , the pleasure building at the base of Shane's spine and the pressure and the release and Shane coming so hard he could feel his eyes water. 

He pulled out with a groan, swallowing Ryan's hiss of discomfort with a quick kiss before slithering down his body to take his cock back into his mouth. Ryan swore, hips hitching, which was fine, it was great, because Shane wanted Ryan to know, to never have any cause to doubt him—because screw whatever else, Shane had been all in for months now, as obvious a fool as there ever had been, heart on his sleeve and every other tender part of him feeling just as goddamned vulnerable—and anyway, there was no possibility of any ironic fucking distance here, just heat and then a burst of salt on Shane's tongue. 

Afterwards, Shane let his forehead rest against the warm, sweaty skin of Ryan's flank and closed his eyes. His legs were dangling off the end of the bed, which would soon be uncomfortable but he was okay for now, feeling his breathing slow in tandem with the slow carding of Ryan's fingers through his hair. 

"So that worked," Ryan said eventually. 

"I think we can agree we showed your butt who's boss," Shane said.

"Eh, I think we showed it like, the importance of collaborative learning?" Ryan said. "But I'm always better when I'm working with you, so."

Shane's heart did something complicated in his chest; he could feel his cheeks heat and a whole bunch of words with absolutely no chill whatsoever crowd into his mouth, demanding to be said. He settled for clearing his throat and saying, solemnly, "I'm glad I could help you on this journey of anal discovery."

One of these days, Shane was going to have to update his grand unified theory of dating one Ryan Bergara to accommodate the fact that he was undeniably, absolutely ass over tea-kettle in love with some kind of swole, Pokemon-incubus hybrid. He was pretty okay with that.


End file.
